


Soluble

by Basingstoke



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-15
Updated: 2000-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>dedicated to Fuzzicat. Especially the smooches.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Soluble

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to Fuzzicat. Especially the smooches.

Fraser stood sentry duty as the thunder rolled across the sky. His hat was wilting from the rain.  Water seeped through the shoulders of his tunic and his trousers were soaked in sideways gusts.  He was thinking about Ray.

 

Inspector Thatcher would certainly have relieved him of sentry duty if she were present at the Consulate, but she was at a reception at another consulate this afternoon.  There was only a projected twenty-five percent chance of rain when she left the duty roster this morning. Fraser wasn't angry, merely very wet and glad that Diefenbaker had remained at home.

 

Fraser shut his eyes as the wind shifted into his face, peppering his skin with large, cold raindrops.  He was thinking specifically of the orange silk shirt Ray had worn two days ago, accompanying a rather elegant charcoal suit.  It had taken him nearly an hour to place the warm associations he had with that color--it didn't remind him of the orange he had gotten for Christmas when he was four, nor the tangerines Ray had introduced him to this winter, nor was it the safety orange that hunters wore.  He had toyed briefly with the notion of it being the color of the lettering on the spine of "Habitation of the North American Beaver," but had rejected it finally as having more of a gold aspect.  

 

The shirt was in fact the precise color of the handle of his Aunt Martha's sewing scissors, which she had used to take in an old dress shirt of his father so that twelve-year-old Benton might go to the Junior Gentleman's Ice Cream Social with Betty Twoeagle.  It was a pleasant association.

 

Fraser opened his eyes as her heard a familiar engine.  Oh dear. Ray had come to pick him up ten minutes early.  

 

He could see the shadowy figure inside the car crack the window. "Fraser!  Ditch it!"

 

Fraser couldn't answer.  He wasn't allowed to speak or make any acknowledgment.  Ray knew that; why did he still try?

 

"Fraser!  Dammit!"

 

Well, Ray could wait in the car until Fraser's shift was over. It would be an unfortunate inconvenience but one that Fraser could hardly help.  He shut his eyes again as wet leaves blew past his face.  

 

A car door slammed and Fraser heard the distinctive sound of Ray grumbling. He opened his eyes.  Ray was marching around the car with an enormous black umbrella.

 

"--think for one damn minute that I'm going to let you stand there like a lump while the sky is falling all over the place and--"  Ray startled as thunder cracked the sky again.  "If I get hit by lightning I'm suing Canada!" he shouted at the upper floor of the building.  

 

Ray rested his hand on Fraser's shoulder and pivoted around him to stand behind Fraser with the umbrella over both their heads.  His head nudged Fraser's hat as he rested his forehead against the back of Fraser's neck. "Anybody else would have the sense to come in out of the rain.  But no, I've got myself a Mountie with the handbook tattooed on the inside of his eyelids."  He shifted and briefly kissed the bare skin between Fraser's hair and collar, a tiny, electric warmth.

 

Silence was always difficult for Fraser.

 

"Five minutes, Benny, then I'm taking you home and stripping you down and we're both going to take a nice hot shower, okay?  And Ma's been bugging me to bring you home for dinner.  She loves watching you eat. It makes her happy.  so that's a plan, okay Benny?"

 

It was a wonderful plan.  

 

"Four minutes.  Damn, it's cold out here."  He tightened his grip on Fraser's shoulder.  Fraser's back felt warmer already. The wind switched directions again and Ray tilted the umbrella to meet it.  

 

"Three minutes.  You realize of course that devotion to duty at the expense of your own well-being is one of the signs of being unhinged."

 

Fraser wanted to protest; it was no such thing.  Ray held onto his shoulder as the wind suddenly eased, sending him off-balance. Feeling returned to Fraser's skin.  He felt somehow mythical: guarding a stronghold of his country through hardship and pain, with his shieldmate steadfast at his back.  

 

"Two minutes.  Do you want it hard and fast or slow and easy, Fraser?"

 

The chimes of the bell tower rang the hour.  "Ray, your watch is slow.  Do I want what?"

 

"Never mind, let's get out of here!"  Ray dragged him over to the unlocked car and shoved him inside.  He ran around to the driver's seat and jumped inside, tossing the umbrella into the back seat and shutting the door with a sigh of pleasure.  

 

"I think my shoes are dissolving, Benny."  Ray started the car, frowning down at his legs.

 

"Don't be silly, Ray.  Some things are soluble and some aren't."

 

"And how do you know I won't melt?"  

 

"I know because I know.  Ray!"  

 

"What?"  Ray turned to Fraser, his eyebrows lifting.  Fraser leaned over, cupped his cheeks in both hands, and kissed him.  Both their faces were cold from the wind and rain, but combined heat warmed them as their tongues slid together.  Ray tasted of garlic. It made Fraser hungry.

 

Fraser pulled back slowly.  "Home, Ray?"  

 

Ray stroked his cheek and put the Riv in gear.

 

   


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end.

  
all feedback is quite welcome. 


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